


A Smuggler and an Art Thief Walk into a Bar

by CookieDoughMe



Category: Haven (TV), White Collar
Genre: Gen, LLF Comment Project, my first foray into White Collar fic, pre-series for both White Collar and Haven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 20:18:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15032408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieDoughMe/pseuds/CookieDoughMe
Summary: A recently acquainted Duke and Neal, drinking in a bar somewhere (somewhere without an extradition treaty probably), get to talking about the perfect job out there waiting for them, the job that calls to them but they just can't do.





	A Smuggler and an Art Thief Walk into a Bar

“You ever have that one job that kind of calls to you, but you just can't quite see how to make it work?” Neal asked.

“I just go where the work takes me,” replied Duke. “That’s what brought me here, otherwise your cargo would still be sitting on the wrong side of the border. What kind of job is it that’s calling to you?”

“There's a rumour, a myth really, about an old painting with the power to see into the future. It's impossible I know, but the myth means it's worth a fortune, and it's also supposed to be beautiful. Trouble is I can't even forge it because no one knows what it looks like. I would love to get my hands on it, even just for a minute.”

“Where is it?” asked Duke, something about the story sounding familiar, though he couldn't quite place how.

“It's supposed to be in some old family collection, in a little out-of-the-way fishing village in Maine. The kind of place you're not accepted as a local until your family's been there for three generations, you know?”

“Oh yes,” Duke replied, with a slightly sinking feeling. He knew alright.

“If I could get hold of it, I know of at least three people who would pay well for it. If I could just get a look at it I could reproduce it and sell that. But that’s all I know about it. I spent a week there a couple years ago, but I didn't get anywhere. No one wanted to talk to an outsider about an impossible sounding myth.”

_ No, they wouldn't,  _ thought Duke.

“I just don't have a way in,” Neal finished.

Duke took a sip of his drink, wondering if he would regret this. “You do now,” he said. “I'm not sure exactly how long the Crockers have been in Haven, but it's long enough.”

“You know the story?” Neal asked surprised. 

Duke nodded. “There are a few variations of it. Haven is full of stories. But I know the family you're talking about; the Keegans have been in Haven since forever. Big old house up on the hill. They don't trust anyone easily though, even a local. It would be tricky even to get a look at it. And there is a complication,” Duke added. “Local detective; annoyingly efficient and pays an irritating amount of attention to my activities.”

“Ah,” said Neal. “I know the feeling. Mine's an FBI agent, won't let it drop. Why can't these people just let it go?”

“Honestly? I kinda think they might just be jealous.”

Neal nodded looked around them, across the bar and out to the soft white sand of the beach and pure blue sky of the sea. He could hear the waves outside, the sound of a dozen different languages being spoken around him, and the singing of exotic birds in the forest out the back. He would spend a week or two here and then he would move on to the next, equally beautiful, island. Duke had a point. “Here's to freedom,” he said, and raised his glass.

“I can drink to that,” agreed Duke, and joined him in the toast.

**Author's Note:**

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